


Shorten The Road

by Marlon



Series: Storm Passes Away [9]
Category: Brooklyn (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Nothing Hurts, Romance, Slice of Life, Tilly the Cat - Freeform, class trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 17:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16706740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marlon/pseuds/Marlon
Summary: Ben decides his small students need to experience life outside Enniscorthy so he enlists the help of Jim, and some other parents, to take a day excursion to Dublin. This is a road trip story, Enniscorthy-style.





	Shorten The Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CalicoJinx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalicoJinx/gifts).



> Be warned: this story contains maximum softness.
> 
> I wrote this specifically for CalicoJinx and I'm posting it here with her blessing. Many thanks to KyluxTrashBin and PerfectTimeMachineStranger for grammar advice and to ChristophInTheNightSky for letting me bounce ideas around.
> 
> To "shorten the road" is an Irish expression meaning the journey goes faster with good company, and it seemed appropriate for this short road trip story. Just a side note, the National Museum of Ireland was established in 1877 but the Kingship and Sacrifice exhibit wasn't opened until relatively recently - you know I like to be as period-specific as I can, but the potential storyline that came with it was too good to pass up. Just pretend it was there in 1952.

When you live with a certain Ben Organa, you have to be prepared for unrelenting cheeriness first thing in the morning. Jim curls into a tight ball, pushing his smiling face into his pillow as he listens to Ben prepare for his day. Ben’s chipper, tuneless whistling filters down the hallway, accompanied by the precise click of his heels on the tiled floor of the washroom. The commotion is vastly preferable to the chilly quiet of mornings past. Before Ben moved in.

Jim rolls onto his back when he hears the water trickle to a stop. Pushing the blankets down to his waist he folds his arms behind his head, waiting. The whistling starts up again and this time, Jim can faintly discern the tune - it’s one of his own. A pleased shiver runs through him; although Ben has many talents, musicality is not one of them. He’s touched that Ben makes the effort to discern his compositions from the hundreds of others he’s heard Jim play over the years. 

Ben’s animated footsteps clatter down the stairs and away into the depths of the house; his happy whistling lingers in the air long after he’s gone. There’s never anything forced or fake about Ben’s sunny disposition; his amiable outlook on life is completely genuine. Jim knows the long road he’s travelled to be here today. To remake your life over not once, but twice, is no small feat, and now Ben’s exactly where he wants to be.

Jim turns onto his side so he can better reach the antique pocket watch on his bedside table. Gingerly catching the chain between his first two fingers, he pulls it toward himself and flips open the cover. Squinting at the hands of the watch he groans, hiding his face in the pillow. Half six in the morning - not terribly early if you’re a school teacher, but for a pub owner, it’s an ungodly hour. He tucks the watch under the pillow so he doesn’t have to acknowledge the time as if that will make a difference.

Although it’s now the middle of October, Enniscorthy has been blessed by unusually lovely autumn weather for the last several weeks. The trees surrounding their property are a mix of alder, oak, ash, and tall evergreens, and have slowly been turning into a beautiful medley of warm, autumnal colours. And when combined with the brilliant cobalt blue of the sky, Ben’s and Jim’s little corner of Enniscorthy looks much like a storybook. Through the gap in the drapes, a thin stream of sunlight tumbles into the bedroom and Jim drifts in and out of a hazy half-sleep watching the dust motes dance in the light.

He’s vaguely aware of footsteps carefully ascending the stairs and blinks himself awake as Ben appears in the doorway, expertly balancing two mugs in one hand.

“Morning,” Ben whispers into the heavy silence of their bedroom, voice still gravelly with sleep. “I brought tea, and this cat I found downstairs.”

Tilly lands on the bed with an indignant _mmrp!_ and proceeds to walk across Jim’s chest to curl up in a ball upon Ben’s pillow.

“Why is it always my pillow!” Ben laments.

Jim smiles as he pushes himself to sit, curling his legs beneath him to make room for Ben to perch beside him on their rumpled, comfortable bed. He scritches Tilly behind her small calico ears before taking the steaming mug of tea from Ben.

“She just misses you when you’re gone.”

Ben harumphs as he takes a sip from his own tea. “She could at least wait until I’m out of the house before she takes my place in your bed.”

“At least you don’t try to wiggle out of my arms when I kiss the top of your furry little head.” Jim giggles.

“As if I’d ever want to do that.” Ben sets his tea down on the bedside table and snags the collar of Jim’s sleep shirt between his fingertips to reel him in for an earl grey flavoured kiss.

Jim hums into the kiss, swaying forward and parting his lips to allow Ben in. He longs to nestle closer but today is an important day for Ben, he absolutely cannot look rumpled heading into school this morning. With a wistful sigh, Jim sits back.

“Are you ready for your staff meeting today?”

Ben tucks Jim’s tousled hair off his forehead then allows his fingers to gently skim over Jim’s cheek. “I am.” He takes up his mug of tea, taking a sip. “I think once the headmistress sees my outline for the class excursion, and knows that fine, upstanding citizens such as yourself will be helping chaperone, she’ll agree.”

Jim holds up his own mug of tea. “I’m sure she will.” They clink their mugs together in a semblance of a toast.

Ben finishes up his own tea, then stands. “How do I look?” He asks, gesturing to himself.

“Well, I’m not sure.” Jim taps his finger against his lips, pretending to think. “You’d better show me the whole outfit.”

He grins as Ben spins in a slow circle, showing off for him and batting his long lashes playfully.

“You look perfect,” Jim says. “Every inch the respectable schoolmaster.”

And he does look perfect. Ben always does. He’s wearing his favourite wool charcoal suit with the waistcoat that fits his broad chest perfectly, the cream button-up shirt that highlights his warm skin, and his brown and white oxfords - this is the suit that Ben was wearing the day they met. Jim smiles up at him fondly, Ben is so sentimental. He only wears this particular suit when he needs to feel confident as if he needs to be concerned. After only two years as a staff member at Vinegar Hill Preparatory, Ben is easily one of the most popular teachers on staff, with students, parents, and teachers alike; Jim is sure that his request for a day trip with his class will be approved.

“Alright.” Ben gathers up their discarded mugs, leaning down for a kiss. “Walk me to the door?”

“Of course.” Jim pushes aside the quilts and swings his bare feet down onto the plush carpet that surrounds the bed. He takes the mugs from Ben as he leaves the room and heads down the stairs.

“See you, Tilly,” he hears Ben say. “Be a good girl and keep Jim company for me, alright?”

Jim giggles quietly as Tilly trills in response. He trots down the stairs ahead of Ben, heading to the kitchen; he sets their used mugs in the sink to be washed later. Ben waits for him by the front door, greatcoat on, tote bags packed. Jim straightens the collar of the coat, tucking in the woollen scarf so Ben won’t catch a chill, and smooths Ben’s rich, dark hair off his forehead.

“Have a good day, love.” He leans in for a final kiss. “See you after.”

“See you after,” Ben echoes softly, catching Jim’s hand in his and pressing a kiss to the rustic gold ring on his finger. “I’ll come by the bar.”

Jim nods and with another kiss, Ben heads out the door and to the car. Jim leans against the doorframe, watching as the car pulls away from the curb, zips down the street and around the corner. Back inside the house, Tilly has come down from the bedroom and sits prettily on the second stair, fluffy tail curled primly around her feet. She meows plaintively at Jim.

“I know you’d like me to believe you’re starving,” he says to her as he returns to the kitchen to fetch another cup of tea, Tilly winding around his feet. “But I know Ben fed you so this isn’t going to work on me.”

Entering the kitchen he points to her full bowl. “See, as I suspected.” Tilly purrs as she butts her head against his shin. “You have breakfast right here. It’ll taste the same if I dish it up for you instead of Ben, I promise.”

She leaps up onto the kitchen table to watch with huge lamp-like eyes as Jim prepares the tea and some toast. Once things are ready, Jim takes a bite of the warm, buttery toast and balances the tea carefully in his other hand as he leans down to get his shoulder level with Tilly. She leaps aboard, tail curling around Jim’s neck as she steadies herself. He grits his teeth slightly as he straightens up - her tiny claws dig in a bit as she maintains her balance on his narrow shoulder. He appreciates her efforts to be gentle with him; she doesn’t latch her claws in and accidentally tear his pyjamas and shoulder to shreds. She’s always had the sweetest disposition though, always so careful with her claws around both him and Ben, as if she knows how delicate they are.

With Tilly balanced on one shoulder, Jim shoves the toast into his mouth and chases it with a swig of tea as he smoothly ascends the stairs in order to prepare for the day ahead.

\----

Paperwork completed, deliveries signed for and safely stored away for the busy week ahead, Jim is now behind the long bar of the pub, carefully drying and stacking pint glasses and idly humming to himself. His gaze drifts around the main room of the cozy pub; the dark wood panelling and heavy drapes make the room appear dim and cave-like in the afternoon light but come nightfall, the room’s rich tones and yellow lamplight will make the space intimate.

Finishing up with the glasses, Jim makes sure they’re all in tidy, pristine rows in the rack above the bar. A glance at the display of bottles along the mirrored back wall of the bar shows that they’re well stocked for business tonight. He tosses his tea towel down upon the polished wood of the bar top as he comes out from behind the counter and crosses the floor of the pub in easy, loping strides, unhurried and relaxed. Grabbing the broom leaning against the wall beside the door, Jim heaves open the heavy door to allow the crisp air to swirl into the room and wash away the stale scent of tobacco from last night’s revelries.

With quick, sure movements, he sweeps the dry leaves and debris from the step of the pub and the pavement in front. It’s the work of a moment; however, he always keeps a tidy establishment. Finishing with the broom, he sets it just inside the pub door as he turns to glance up the street. The Market Square is bustling with people out shopping for things for their afternoon tea, there’s a small crowd of friends gathered by the statue of Father Murphy laughing and chatting amiably, a car trundles past - in short, it’s a day like any other in Enniscorthy. Except it wasn’t business as usual, not anymore.

He suspects that, to some people, his life looks unfairly easy, and to others, it seems sad and lonely. A few years ago, he would have agreed with those people. But not now. He’s still the respectable young man from a respectable family but it’s no longer the burden he once thought it was. He finds that he’s quite content now.

Jim’s attention is captured by the familiar sound of his Vauxhall’s engine roaring up the street. He watches its approach as Ben zips the small car along the street, bringing it to a crooked stop in front of the pub. Ben unfolds himself from the car, grin splashed across his face, and steps toward Jim who is waiting for him on the steps of the pub.

“That’s a happy smile if ever I’ve seen one,” Jim says by way of a greeting.

Ben grins even more broadly, if possible. “You know it.” He slides to a stop beside Jim. “Shall we go inside?”

Jim nods, gesturing for Ben to proceed him into the pub. Jim kicks the door stop out, allowing the heavy oak door to close with a rumble behind them. He moves around the long counter as Ben rests his crossed elbows on the shining surface of the bar.

“So the day trip is a go for next month,” Ben bursts out, hardly able to contain his excitement.

“Wonderful. This calls for a celebration.” Jim takes a tall bottle of Jameson’s off the shelf and pours a measure for Ben and himself. 

Ben raises his glass in a toast, then takes a sip. “So, Jim, do you feel like a little road trip to Dublin next month?” He smiles brightly.

Jim leans across the bar to press a soft kiss to his smiling mouth. He nods.

\----

The picturesque autumn gives way to a blustery and gray winter not only in Enniscorthy but along the whole east coast of the country; grey leaden skies and brisk winds are now the norm day in and day out. When the last of the leaves had finally been blown down from the trees, the skeletal branches that arch overhead in the low winter sun create a latticework of shadows across the dormant garden.

The days leading up to the excursion have been chilly and gray, the air holds the taste of snow and there has been frost creeping across the windows of the car and crystallizing along the fences and hedges surrounding the garden. As a precaution, Ben warns his small charges to dress warmly against the change in temperature. Both he and Jim make sure to bundle up as well; layering warm cardigans over button-up shirts, and heavy peacoats matched with knubbly wool scarves, they were quite warm as Jim piloted the car towards Vinegar Hill Preparatory School. Jim turns the car’s small heater up as high as it will go and hopefully, the car will hold onto some of its warmth while waiting for Ben’s students to pile in.

Despite the chill in the air, the winter-dull lawn of the school is still filled with students at play, all dressed as warmly as he and Ben in heavy jackets and knitted caps. Jim parks the car along the shoulder of the road and as he and Ben hurry down the hedge-lined approach to the school, several of the children call out, waving eagerly as soon as they see Ben. 

The chaos from the playground spills inside once the bell rings. Ben’s students are clearly thrilled about the day’s excursion into Dublin for they are unable to sit still, squirming and restless at their tiny wooden desks. Ben confessed last night over dinner that he had been almost unable to keep control of them and eventually resorted to bribery with candy to keep order in the classroom. The candy bribe had worked like a charm Ben had said with a tired smile, but Jim knew he was as excited for the day trip as his small students were.

Jim stands at the back of the classroom, hands tucked into his pockets, with the two other chaperons - Mrs. Doyle and Mrs. O’Halleran - and tries in vain to hide his smile as the children argue over car assignments; of course, all of them want to ride in Ben’s car. The students are sweet, Jim thinks as the class reaches a grudging compromise. Ben diligently writes down all their names on slips of paper in order to draw them from a hat so that everyone will have an equal chance to be in Ben’s car. The children are still at an age where they adore school and their teacher - Ben is forever coming home with folders full of drawings and cards they make for him.

After several tense minutes, the car assignments are organized. Mrs. Doyle buries her head in her hands as her daughter, Carmel, crows her victory in securing a spot in Jim and Ben’s car over the other students.

“I’m sure I raised her to have better manners than this,” she mutters to Jim, who nods in sympathy while subtly smothering a smile with a polite cough; he is forever charmed by the ebullience of Ben’s students but then again, he wasn’t the one raising them.

As the four adults shepherd the exuberant students out the door and towards the waiting cars, Jim can’t help but feel wistful. He doesn’t have siblings and both his parents are from uncharacteristically small families who had mostly emigrated to Canada and America by the time he became old enough to be aware of such things, so no cousins to keep company with either. He wonders if perhaps Ben would be amenable to a visit to New York this summer; Rey has recently written to say she and Finn were expecting, and it would be lovely to visit Ben’s family at such a joyous time.

Securing the students in the cars, Ben confers with Jim, Mrs. Doyle, and Mrs. O’Halleran regarding their course of action. They plan to try to keep together once on the road, but if traffic becomes heavy and one car falls behind, they will simply rendezvous in the parking area behind the museum on Kildare Street.

Back in the car, Jim starts the engine and lets it idle, dry heat pumping out of the vents, as Ben takes a final moment to make sure everyone’s secure in their seat and that everything is accounted for. When he’s satisfied, he nods to Jim who throws the car into drive and guides it onto the narrow road and away from the school. The children are giddy with excitement; they wave an enthusiastic goodbye to the school building as they round the curve in the road and the school disappears from sight.

As they pass through the town, the car is full of excited whispering as the three students, Jenny, Carmel, and William, crane their necks to peer out the narrow windows of the backseat. They eagerly point out their homes or frequently visited shops to each other, and to Ben, and laugh uproariously as they fall over each other in exaggeration whenever Jim turns a corner. He giggles quietly at their antics, which seems to spur them on, as Ben simply shakes his head in rueful acceptance.

The town and outlying houses gradually fall away until their small caravan of three cars is alone on the two-lane road. Ben suggests a game of “I Spy” but it proves dull when there’s nothing to spy but rolling wintry fallow fields, crumbling stone fences, and barren trees. There’s some momentary excitement when they slow down to pass a horse-drawn cart ambling along the shoulder of the road, and then again when a dusty red tractor lumbers by.

Eventually, Jenny and Carmel fall to peppering Ben with questions while William, shy in the face of the girls’ high spirits, merely listens avidly.

“How long have you and Mr. Farrell been friends?” Jenny asks.

“Are you _best_ friends?” Carmel cuts in. Jim glances up to the rearview mirror to see her eyes bouncing between him and Ben eagerly.

“Yes, actually we are -” Ben begins before he’s cut off by another barrage of questioning.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“How many pets do you have?”

“Can you count to a million?”

“Hey, kids.” Ben slings his arm along the back of Jim’s seat as he turns to face the children. “Did you know that Mr. Farrell here has a cat?”

The three little voices gasp excitedly from the back seat and for the duration of the drive into Dublin, there are alternating rounds of questions about Tilly the cat interspersed with counting and spelling games. 

As they draw near to Dublin, the countryside slowly gives way to buildings, busier streets, and a lot more to see than just farms and fields. Taller and taller buildings spring up until finally, they are in the city proper surrounded on all sides by shops, warehouses, offices, and sidewalks teeming with all sorts of people. At one point traffic grinds to a halt so that a herd of cattle may be driven through the street on their way to the docks to be loaded on a boat for England. Ben points out a sweet shop he sometimes visits to buy gifts for Padme, and over there, the site of a significant historical event, he explains bits about the city to the three children who gaze enraptured at the unfamiliar surroundings. Jim glances at Ben out of the corner of his eye as he navigates the busy street; Ben’s fathomless dark eyes are shining as he turns in his seat to answer the children’s questions.

Jenny, Carmel, and William exclaim in delight as they pass St. Stephen’s Green - the pond filled with ducks and swans is just visible beyond the border of trees - and they clamour to go to the park instead of the museum. No, Ben insists, they really are going to the museum instead of the park, and yes, his grandmother does live in Dublin but, unfortunately, there won’t be time to visit her.

“I think Padme would really enjoy a visit,” Jim whispers as he makes the corner, driving them past the row of stately Georgian-style homes opposite the park.

“She would,” Ben mutters back, “all too much. How’d you like living with my grandmother and our twelve adopted children?”

Jim huffs. “Sounds fine to me.” He giggles louder. “But I don’t think Tilly would like it.”

“Alright, for Tilly’s sake, then, we’ll return everyone home at the end of the day.”

Jim snorts again as he and Ben share a fond look. Jim then turns his attention to the task of parking as he swings the car into the small, square parking area behind the museum. Driving through the lot, he finds an empty corner that will accommodate all three cars; turning off the ignition, he listens attentively as Ben explains about the importance of safety while in the busy city. The three children nod solemnly, then pile out of the car and line up along the side of the vehicle, waiting for Jim to fetch their lunchboxes and Ben’s tote bags from the boot of the car.

The other two cars pull in and park alongside Jim’s; the other children pour out of the cars and swarm over to join Ben’s group. He marshalls them into two neat lines and together, they trek across the gravel lot towards the museum. Passing through the old wrought-iron gates and up the stone steps, Jim admires the beautifully designed building, finding the colonnade porch and high-arching domed roof as elegant and as equally impressive as any of the other great museums he’s seen in his travels.

Jim hurries up the steps to catch the door so that Ben can lead his class into the great rotunda; he can’t help but smile as Jenny, Carmel, and William wave at him as they pass. He catches up with the group as they gather in the foyer, waiting in their neat lines, as Ben confers with the docent at the admissions desk. The attention of most of the students is on the small gift shop to the right, where racks of postcards, art prints, and glittery artifacts are positioned to catch your eye as you exit. A couple of the small boys look like they are about to make a break for the display of toy swords and armour so Jim takes two quick steps to head them off, drawing their attention to the extravagant mosaic of the zodiac on the floor beneath their feet. The distraction works long enough for Ben to return to lead them through a set of doors behind the ticket desk to a small classroom where they can leave their coats and lunch boxes.

Ben draws a stack of notebooks and a handful of pencils from one of his tote bags, handing them off to Mrs. Doyle. She distributes them for him while he lists the exhibit rooms they’ll visit and the assignment to draw pictures of their favourite parts of the museum. With that, they gather up their supplies and follow Ben out of the classroom and through the rotunda and into the main hall of the museum.

The museum is quiet, for the most part, this Wednesday morning. There are a couple of people examining the displays in the centre of the room, as well as another school group lined up along the far wall, listening attentively to their teacher. Ben’s group is more exuberant than the other class of older students, their excited whispering and high-pitched laughter bounce off the walls and echoes around the large room but Jim finds them surprisingly well-behaved and as orderly as a group of five-year-olds can be when visiting the city for the first time. He trails after the class as they march up the stairs and along the balcony towards their first exhibit hall.

\----

Ben has the patience of a saint, Jim thinks for the hundredth time in the past hour. His students are a delight but so curious, they relentlessly quiz Ben on the many different artifacts in the Egyptian and Viking rooms, peppering him with question after question and wanting to show him their drawings. Ben answers each question with good humour. Even those questions that Jim thinks can’t possibly have a satisfactory answer, Ben responds to as artfully as he can.

Jim stands off to the side with Mrs. Doyle and Mrs. O’Halleran as Ben tries to wrap up their time in the upper galleries. The students are clustered around Ben as he crouches down in front of a glass display case set into the floor showing a small painted sarcophagus. A couple of the boys have their arms slung around Ben’s shoulders as they lean over to see into the recreation of the Egyptian tomb. Mrs. Doyle just shakes her head as Carmel strongarms the boys away from Ben so she can ask her earnest questions right into Ben’s ear.

“Mr. Organa is a wonder,” she whispers to Jim. “I have two other children at Vinegar Hill and they were never as excited about school as Carmel has been this year.”

“He’s a very dedicated teacher,” Jim responds fondly, not bothering to hide his amusement at Ben’s attempt to move the group over to look at the hieroglyphics painted on the wall. “It’s rather marvellous to see someone doing the thing they were meant to do.”

“It is,” she agrees before dashing over to gently admonish Carmel for pushing William out of her way so she can get to the front of the group.

After finishing with the galleries on the upper floor, Ben herds the class down the stairs and gathers everyone around him in the darkened antechamber outside the entrance to the Kingship and Sacrifice display; he waits, smiling, until he has the attention of his class, and then he crouches down to be eye-level with them.

“Now,” Ben begins, smiling reassuringly at the assembled group, “in this room behind me are the Iron Age kings. Who wants to see them?”

His eyes dance as the students excitedly cheer with hands in the air, he grins at Jim over their heads. Ben waits for the fervour to quiet down before he continues.

“Alright, we’ll go in. But first, this is very important, if you feel scared or sad then it’s perfectly fine and you can stay here with Mr. Farrell” - he looks up at Jim who nods in confirmation - “and we’ll meet you at the other end of the exhibit.”

He takes a moment to gaze searchingly at each of the small students. Most are nodding vigorously, eager to see the display, but one or two seem apprehensive and so Ben spends a few moments in hushed conversation with each. After a few whispered words and a reassuring squeeze of shoulders, he stands.

“Let’s remember to use our church voices when we’re in the room and be respectful,” he reminds them as he leads them down the ramp that will take them into the display.

Jim hangs back as the students eagerly skip down the ramp followed by Mrs. Doyle and Mrs. O’Halleran but no sooner has the class disappeared into the room then Ben is back with Jenny holding his hand in a vice-like grip. Her eyes look watery but she’s clearly making an effort to be brave as she greets Jim with a small smile.

“Mr. Farrell,” Ben begins, crouching down beside Jenny, who transfers her iron grip from his hand to the fabric of his shirt sleeve. “Jenny would prefer to see the treasure room with you.” Ben looks up at Jim with concern writ across his face. “Would you mind showing her?”

“Of course.” He also kneels down beside Ben to better reassure them both. “Jen, would that be fine with you? We’ll just be right through there.” He points towards down the stairs where the bright glitter of the treasury room beckon.

“Okay.” She responds quietly, looking up at Jim with huge sad eyes.

“We’ll see you in a few minutes then,” Ben says as he stands, Jim following him, and hands over the notebook and pencils for Jenny’s assignment. “I have to get back to the class before they tear the room apart.” He grins, squeezing Jim’s elbow. “Thank you for looking after Jenny.” He squeezes Jim’s arm again, rubbing his thumb briefly over the soft fabric of his shirt, his gaze soft on Jim’s face.

Jim nods. “Of course.”

With that, Ben dashes back to his class in the Kingship exhibit and not a minute too soon, Jim thinks, for, despite Ben’s earlier warning to be quiet, he can hear the excited voices of the class ringing out from within the hall. He tucks the notebook and pencils into his pocket and with an encouraging nod to Jenny, they descend the short set of stairs and cross the main exhibit hall to the treasury room.

The long room is rather impressive, with its white marble floor and rows of sparkling glass cases, the atmosphere is bright and airy which is a nice contrast from the sombre lighting of the kingship room. Each display case is illuminated from within and the priceless treasures glimmer and shine as the lights reflect off the many polished surfaces of the chalices, plates, and jewellery.

Jenny’s attention soon wanes as the silver treasure hoard isn’t nearly as exciting as the Egyptian or Viking displays. Although the room holds some very fine examples of Irish silversmithing, Jim can understand how she might find it dull once the initial attraction of the glittering artifacts wears off.

“What do you think, Jenny, shall we go see the gold in the next room?”

“Uh-huh.” She sighs. “I thought there’d be swords in here.” She slips her small hand in his and tows him towards the main room.

He chuckles. “I think there’s weaponry and such in the other room but I believe Mr. Organa has a plan to show us that after lunch.”

Back in the main hall, they descend a short set of stairs to the sunken middle section of the room that holds the museum’s striking collection of gold. The cases are a touch too tall for Jenny to see easily so Jim obligingly hoists her up onto his hip and together, they peer down into the cases of glittering gold.

“Good Lord,” Jim exclaims, “what’s this? Some sort of dragon’s hoard?”

They stop at a large display case showing a mountainous pile of delicate gold rings and three long necklaces made of interlaced golden hoops; all the items are finely made and in remarkable condition given their age.

Jenny gasps. “Do you think so?”

“Who else but a dragon would have such a collection? Let’s keep going and see what we discover next.”

They move to the next case which holds wickedly sharp pins and dress fasteners, some of which are broken in the middle. The pins and the fasteners all have dish-shaped ends, presumably to keep them in place in the fabric of clothing.

“What do you think these are?” Jim asks.

“Hmm,” Jenny muses as she plucks at the collar of his shirt, “are they trumpets for fairies?”

“Could be, could be.” He pretends to think it over. “The Fae are tiny creatures, are they not?”

She giggles. “Yes! They have pretty wings and live inside gardens.”

“That must be why my garden has so many flowers in the summer.” Jim laughs.

Jenny nods in agreement before a worried look crosses her face.

“Tilly wouldn’t hurt the fairies, would she?”

“Oh my, no,” Jim reassures her as they move on to the next display case. “She’s the sweetest of cats - all she does is sleep in the sun and ask for belly-rubs.”

“That’s good.” Jenny breathes a sigh of relief as they stop at a glass case displaying a finely engraved golden gorget and several pairs of gold-wire earrings. She looks up at Jim, eyes dancing, her earlier dismay having disappeared completely. “What are these?” She asks eagerly, hoping that he’ll continue their game.

“Well these are certainly very fine, aren’t they?” She nods, waiting avidly for him to continue. “Perhaps these belonged to the goddess Fódla - only a goddess would have such beautiful jewellery.”

“Wow,” she breathes, enchanted.

He shifts her from his hip back to the floor. “Here now, there’s a bench. Let’s sit for a moment, I think I can hear the others coming and I believe Mr. Organa asked you to make some drawings?”

Jim follows Jenny’s now buoyant steps toward the bench; he pulls the notebook and pencils from his pocket and hands them over to her as he sits. Jenny sinks to the floor so she can use the bench as a table and begins meticulously recreating some of the rings and necklaces in the glass cases behind them. Finishing her sketch, she turns to a fresh page and holds it out to Jim.

“Now you draw a dragon.”

“Ah, okay.” He hedges; drawing was not one of his skills at school.

Jim’s just finishing up his dragon, which looks more like a squashed lizard than anything, when the rest of the class barrels over to them, talking and laughing loudly until Ben hurries over and sweeps them all up and takes them to the assembly room to have lunch.

\----

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur and as Jim navigates the car through the traffic, he feels more exhausted than he ever has after the busiest night at the pub. He’s always had respect for Ben’s profession but he’s even more in awe, the energy and patience needed to handle a class of five-year-olds day in and day out is overwhelming.

Now that the excitement of the day trip is mostly over, Jenny, Carmel, and William sit quietly in the back seat of the car, calmly working on their drawings and giggling with each other. Ben leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes for a minute; he smiles, tilting his head around to look at Jim.

“No more class trips this year, I think.”

Jim laughs. “It was a huge success, the children had so much fun.”

“It was so much fun, Mr. Organa!” Carmel pipes up from the backseat. “Can we go again?”

“See.” Jim grins, turning onto the street that will eventually take them to the highway and home to Enniscorthy. “A smashing success.”

Ben lightly presses his fingers to his temples to ease the pinch of a growing headache. “I think not, Carmel.” He turns to smile at her. “We’ve got other topics to cover before the year is up. Maybe your mother will take you if you ask her nicely.”

“Maybe,” she says, her tone clearly indicating that it is unlikely.

The three children are fast asleep by the time they’re well out of the city, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the car and the sheer amount of energy they expended during the day. Jim glances over to see that Ben has dozed off as well. He gently tucks Ben’s hair behind his ear and settles in for the drive back to Enniscorthy.

\----

It’s late in the afternoon when they return to the school and wait while all the children are picked up by their parents. Long shadows are crawling across the front yard by the time Jim parks the car in front of their home. Tilly is perched on the windowsill of the parlour awaiting their return, the curtains twitch as she disappears from the ledge, presumably waiting to greet them at the door.

With dragging footsteps, they climb the steps to the front door. Jim takes Ben’s coat for him once they’re inside; hanging both jackets up, he waits for Ben to deposit his schoolwork in the study. Then, arms slung around each other, they ascend the stairs to the bedroom, Tilly trailing at their heels.

At the top of the stairs, Ben drifts down the hall towards the bathroom and from within their bedroom, the telltale rumble of water filling up the large enamel bathtub reaches Jim’s ears. He tugs off his green jumper, shaking it out and throwing it over the chair in the corner of the room, and then slips his braces off his shoulders and lets them drape around his hips. He carefully takes out his pocket watch and sets it on his bedside table. Tilly hops up on their bed and curls up in the space between their pillows; Jim strokes a gentle hand down her back, smiling as she curls into herself and sighs.

Ben comes into the room carrying two clean towels from the linen closet at the end of the hallway. He tosses the towels onto the bed and then gathers Jim to him, burying his face in Jim’s hair.

“Thanks for helping me today.” His voice is muffled by Jim’s hair. “It was a lot of fun but good Lord, I am exhausted.”

Jim presses him closer for a moment. Gently disentangling their arms, he slides his hands into Ben’s hair to begin removing the kirby pins and ties that held his heavy, dark locks in place all day.

“It was a wonderful thing for your class, though.” Jim deposits a handful of pins on his bedside table, followed by the tie, then scritches his fingers through Ben’s hair, working out the knots and tangles. “Some of those children may never have been able to go into Dublin to see the museum. They may never know a life beyond Enniscorthy and for at least one day, you were able to show them that there’s a whole world out there.”

Ben sighs with pleasure as he all but melts into Jim’s body and rests his forehead against Jim’s, allowing his eyes to drift closed. His hands come up to grasp Jim by his hips.

“I hope so,” he mumbles against Jim’s lips. “It’ll be worth it if at least one of them is inspired.”

“I definitely saw the makings of many an artist and archaeologist among them.” Jim teases, leaning back to brush his fingertips over Ben’s cheek. “Let’s go to the bath now, before the water overflows the tub.”

Ben gathers the towels from the bed and leads Jim down the hall to the humid, citrus-scented bathroom.

“Close the door,” he says, eyes hooded and dark.

Jim kicks the door closed behind him as he steps into the familiar circle of Ben’s arms.

\----

Two days later, Jim is at the kitchen table reading the day’s edition of the Enniscorthy Guardian with Tilly, dinner bubbling away on the stove.

“It says here that there might be a colder winter than usual.” Jim looks over at Tilly. “What do you think about that?”

Tilly rolls over to butt her head against Jim’s hand and he obligingly tickles her under her chin.

“I suppose that means you’ll have to stay inside more for the next few months.”

Tilly’s ears perk up as she gazes at him, then she hops off the table and trots towards the front door, the small silver bell on her collar jingling as she goes.

Ben bursts into the kitchen moments later, schoolwork in one arm, Tilly cradled in the other. He sets Tilly down on the table before kissing Jim hello.

“I have something for you.” He grins as he sets down his bundle of papers, rifling through them until he comes up with three colourful cards. He hands them to Jim with a wink as he sits beside him.

_Dear Mr. Farrell -_

_Thank you for driving us to Dublin. I drew this dragon because yours wasn’t very good._

_Jenny Cahill_

Jim laughs as he opens the first card to reveal a large green dragon, the huge wings and tail take up the entire sheet of paper. In the corner, Jenny had also drawn his car and scrawled her name in purple crayon.

“I thought my dragon was pretty good,” he mumbles to himself, eyebrow arching as he glances up at Ben.

“Eh.” Ben waggles his hand back and forth, indicating what he thinks of Jim’s artistic abilities.

Jim swats at Ben’s arm, laughing out loud, before turning to the other two cards. Carmel and William have both written similar messages to Jenny - Ben having obviously coached the class in proper thank you note etiquette - but instead of a dragon, Carmel’s card is covered in a scatter of symbols that are supposed to represent hieroglyphics, he assumes, and William has simply drawn a representation of Jim’s black Vauxhall.

“Sweet children,” Jim says to himself as he stacks the cards upon the table and well out of the reach of Tilly’s curious paws.

“I was planning on having them make thank you cards for you, Mrs. Doyle, and Mrs. O’Halleran, but Jenny beat me to the punch yesterday.” Ben leans in for another kiss, then gets to his feet. “She came to school with the card already done.”

“How thoughtful.”

Jim gathers up the cards and takes them into the parlour to arrange them on top of the piano while Ben prepares their dinner. When he comes back into the kitchen, Tilly is sniffing suspiciously at the two bowls of vegetable soup while Ben fetches the bread and butter from the dresser. Jim sets Tilly on the floor but with a swish of her fluffy tail, she dashes under the table and leaps up upon the windowsill so she can both keep an eye on them, and the pesky squirrels in the garden. Jim seats himself at the table as Ben returns with the bread and sits as well. They dig into the hearty soup and Ben sighs with contentment.

“Tell me about your day, love,” Jim says as the sun slowly sets beyond the window, painting everything with a warm, golden glow.

Ben smiles, sliding his hand across the table to capture Jim’s he raises it to his lips. As Ben begins to tell him about his day, Jim feels a fluttering of contentment. He has a very fine life, indeed.


End file.
